


Free

by Mary_chat



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Heartbreak, Mean Parents, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:34:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28010238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mary_chat/pseuds/Mary_chat
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

Fireworks cracked, loud screams of excitement echoed throughout the Bakery. Everyone in the house counted down the seconds until 2020 was over.

 _Ten_.

 _Nine_.

 _Eight_.

 _Seven_.

_Six._

Tom had gone _all out_. He and his wife, Sabine, spent a large sum of money on this party.

_Five._

_Four._

_Three._

They had exactly five separate disco balls, an indoor and an outdoor dance floor, properly themed food, and an incredibly well-stocked open bar that left the guests in awe.

_Two._

And in the corner sat a girl with striking blue/black hair, alone, again… as always, sipping on some soda.

 _One_.

More fireworks went off, bursting into sparks of gold, blue, red, and white.

The girl—Marinette—didn’t look up. She remained seated on the couch, crossing and uncrossing her legs, taking sip after sip of soda. It was _good_ soda. 

But, was she bored.

Her blue eyes scanned the crowds. Everyone was yelling, throwing their hands in the air, hugging and kissing each other.

She had no idea where her parents were. The very hosts of this party. This was their house. This was her house, too, then, she supposed.

And all of that—well, _everything_ in her life—was owed to the success of her father’s bakery.

Looking around again, Marinette saw no trace of them anywhere.

Well—classically _her mother_ was nowhere to be found, blessed with the uncanny ability to seamlessly blend in with the furniture at these types of parties. Well. Actually… with Sabine, it always went one of _two_ ways. Either 1) she hid out somewhere using her stealthy camouflage skills as the night progressed or 2) she took on the role of belle of the ball, effortlessly engaged in radiant conversations with every party-goer. The difference between those two perfectly outlined by one simple distinction—whether it was a Bad Day or a Good Day.

Today was a Bad Day. Marinette could feel it. Her mother’s absence more-than confirmed that blatant fact.

But still no sign of her father.

Marinette rolled her eyes and gulped down more soda. Her stomach dropped. Worst New Year’s ever. She was _always_ required to attend these stupid parties because it looked good for her dad to have such a supportive youngest daughter.

And she _loved_ parties. But.

But she wished she had somebody, _anybody_ even remotely close to her age to share this with.

Because even though their house was filled with people, filled with people having the _time of their life_ , she still felt so... lonely. Maybe even the loneliest she had felt in a long time.

She _knew_ she’d feel this way. Marinette had really tried her best to preemptively remedy the situation, asking her dad if she could invite her best friend, Alya, to the party. But of course, Tom had grumbled something under his breath about how that would be a _bad look_.

Shaking off all of that frustration, Marinette slowly rose from the couch, making her way past a few scantily clad go-go dancers, trying her best to push away the cocktail meatballs and the fondue skewers they kept trying to shove into her face.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of her father, _finally,_ standing next to a couple of his buddies. They carelessly swung their glasses and laughed hearty belly laughs.

Marinette thought maybe she could join this conversation. Seemed fun enough.

But when she made it close enough to hear their conversation, she stopped in her tracks. They hadn’t noticed her approaching, of course. They never did. Being invisible to her father and his cronies was one of her biggest talents.

Even still, she backtracked a bit, allowing herself to hide behind the series of potted plants that lined their living room.

“I kept telling her we already had the perfect kid—why would we risk the second one? But she didn’t buy it. She wanted Bridgette to have a sibling. And look where we are now.” A series of masculine laughter—guffaws more than anything else—broke out.

Marinette gulped. This wasn’t new. She’d even heard it all before. Her father’s go-to party story.

But then he said it. The punchline. Stated in such a light-hearted manner with a characteristic shake of his head. “We should’ve stopped after one.”

Marinette stumbled backward. It always hit her. It always hurt her. Her fourth time hearing this dumb story and it still felt like being punched in the gut.

And yet… here she was at this party alone and bored and miserable trying to please him. Hoping maybe one day he would change this story. Maybe one day he would stop telling it altogether. Because she was _here._ She tried. She made the effort.

It didn’t seem like it was too much to ask. Things used to be good. They used to spend time together as a family.

Tears stung her eyes. She totally should’ve just said freak you to her dad and gone to Alya’s house like she wanted.

Whatever. Right now, all she needed was an escape. Marinette desperately wanted to get the heck away from him.

So, she took off in a jog toward the kitchen, the echoes of her father’s continued laughter taunting her remorselessly.

On the way, she caught her reflection in a golden floor length mirror. Her jog slowed to a halt.

She sighed, staring deeply at her reflection. Poofy but also flawlessly curled, her usually chest-length blue hair now only fell to her shoulders. Marinette gave it a quick toss, adding even more body to the curls.

She stared harder, looked closer.

The frosted pink lips and the black eye-shadow, brought out every single feature of her face—her piercing electric blue eyes, her soft yet diffuse freckles, and the eternal flush of her cheeks. She sighed, carefully biting her lip so as to not mess up her lipstick and touched the thin silver choker around her neck. One of her Christmas gifts from Adrien. 

Marinette sighed again.

She thought she looked okay. Just _okay_. Sure, the red and black sequined dress framed her body well. The straight neckline and spaghetti straps were cute. And naturally she did love that the dress fell to her upper thighs.

One more sigh and she decided it was time to move on.

Thankfully it didn’t really matter how she looked while she did the thing she really wanted to do next.

Marinette took one last moment to look at herself. To psych herself up for what was to come.

You got this, Marinette. You’ve done this loads of times before. Tonight is _no different_.

Because.

There was somebody she wanted to talk to. Somebody she _needed_ to talk to. It was a new year now. 2021. Maybe this was _their_ year, maybe in 2021 they’d be close again.

Her heart beat heavily and quickly within her chest. Faster yet when she reached the kitchen… when she picked up the clunky gray cordless phone.

She had the number memorized. Marinette called her sister, Bridgette, at the minimum once a day.

Bridgette very rarely picked up. Bridgette very rarely called her back. But every so often, like a glimmer of hope, she did.

Bridgette was busy with academics and the consistent string of pressure her parents put on her as their _successful and perfect first-born daughter_.

But lucky for Marinette, Bridgette had a shiny new phone that she got for her 18th birthday.

Marinette dialed the number and held her breath. The sounds of more fireworks and more chatter and more people being beyond obnoxious filled the background and Marinette decided it best to lock herself in their massive pantry. It was quieter there. She could drown out the sounds of everybody to the point that she only heard the phone ringing, her heartbeat, and that same nervous and hopeful mantra.

The ringing stopped cold. And then one aggressive beep later and Marinette thought she might start sobbing.

She couldn’t hide the quivering in her voice. “Um, Bridgette. Hi. Happy New Year!” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Um. It’s dad’s dumb disco party right now and everybody’s being so loud and boring, and I have nobody to hang out with, so I thought maybe…” Her voice cracked. “I thought maybe you’d be free, but. I guess you’re not. You’re probably, like, sleeping or something. Which makes sense, um, because. whatever. But. I thought, maybe, since it’s _New Year’s_ and all that you’d be free or still awake or something. Um.” A sob caught in her throat. “I miss you, Bridgette. I really miss you. I know we don’t talk that much, and I know you have so much going on and school is stressful and I’m just your annoying little sister. But. I love you. I feel…” Marinette took a deep breath in. Tears rolled at a steady pace down her cheeks. “Um. Never mind. Can you just—can you give me a call when you get this? I’d love to talk to you.” She couldn’t hold in the sobs anymore. Instead of a singular crack she broke down fully, her voice quaking with frantic cries. “I miss you, Bridgette. I love you.” She had to take a minute to catch her breath. “Um—bye.”

The second Marinette pressed end on the phone she collapsed onto the floor. She hadn’t bothered turning the light on in the pantry and now she was thankful for the darkness. It somehow comforted her. Like she was in an entirely different dimension. She needed that escape.

She didn’t know what to feel. She didn’t know _how_ to feel. Her entire body was numb.

Why did she ever let herself get her hopes up again? It always ended the same way.

Disappointment.

This wasn’t their year. It was _never_ going to be their year.

She was stuck in this endless cycle of loneliness and rejection and abandonment and she would never break free.

Never.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucky for you, I update fast!  
> Enjoy! :D  
> ~Mary

High school meant romance and drama and maybe a little bit of learning or something, too. But she wanted a _high school boyfriend_. She wanted someone to light up her life and her heart and she wanted _everything_ that came with having that. She just wanted… someone. She wanted love. She wanted someone to love her.

Adrien smiled softly. “Have I ever told you how cute you look in braids?”

The comment made Marinette blush, “No.”

“Well, you do. You—”

But then she saw Luka walking through the sliding glass door. And she got desperate. “Adrien, um… I think it’s best—I need to—”

“Mari!” Luka somehow squeezed his way between the two of them on the couch. Adrien recoiled and exhaled in a pout. “Got you these.” He handed her not one but _two_ sodas. For himself, he had chosen some generic looking soda. “Thought you looked thirsty.”

“Who’s this guy?” Luka said this in a way that made it seem like Adrien didn’t sit so close to him that their thighs rubbed together.

“That’s Adrien . He’s my friend. Um…He was just leaving.” She’d explain everything to him later. But for now she felt bad.

Adrien slouched, and his eyes shot to the floor. He looked so dejected that guilt churned within Marinette’s stomach. But slowly he got up, nodding, not quite looking into her eyes when he said, “Yup. I need to… um. Bye.”

Marinette exhaled slowly. Everything would be _fine_ once she explained it to him. He probably already knew what the deal was.

So, she tried to put _that_ thread of guilt out of her mind.

“Sorry about that. He’s great, I promise.” Marinette moved in closer to Luka, trying to recreate her earlier pose. She took a sip of one of the drinks, placing the other one carefully on the floor. It was strong. Trying to decide what her first move was, She took a few sips of the soda. Luka’s hand found Marinette's upper thigh and she instantly felt both a pressure down below and a heart heaving thrill of excitement the second he did. 

And then. _Right_ then.

Marinette knew she had him in the palm of her hand. She didn’t feel nervous anymore.

“We used to go to a Ferris wheel all the time when I was little. My dad spun me too hard on the Drummer Boy and I threw up _next to_ the trash can. Like, I was _so close_ to making it an elegant barf that nobody had to clean up or anything but nope. I failed. Literally… adjacent to the trash can.”

Luka laughed now. Heartily.

 _Yes._ Nice work, Marinette. You’re funny. You’ve got this. Two points to Marinette in the Junior Boy Hunt. And then, while still laughing, he moved his hand a little further up on her thigh. Two _more_ points. “My sister made it to the bathroom. Barfed in the toilet. And I think that moment really set us on our life trajectories. Class Act Bridgette and Hot Mess Marinette.”

He laughed again. She had to give herself at least five points for that one.

“Bridgette’s your sister?”

“Mmhmm. She’s like a super genius. Goes to this boarding school in New York,” Marinette said cheerily, chugging her drink. Willing herself to forget those unanswered phone calls. “And… meanwhile here _I_ am.”

“You wanna get ice cream sometime?”

Marinette’s heart almost stopped right there. He wanted to go out with her, like, on a date? Probably? That was a date, right? He meant this as a date? The two of them going to get ice cream. Maybe he meant in a group. Like a _group of them_ would go and get some ice cream and hang out or something. But then Marinette took a few more sips of her drink and decided…

“You mean like a date?” She scooted even closer to him. 

She tucked a loose strand of hair around her ear and chugged the last bit of one soda as she waited for his answer.

But it never came.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

Her heart fluttered at those words. Did it feel good to be complimented like that. To feel, even if only for a few minutes, that she was the center of somebody else’s world.

“Um… are you sleeping here tonight?”

“That was the plan,” he said, crooning. “Are you?”

“Yeah. Duh. Always.”

“Your parents don’t want you back home?”

Marinette laughed in spite of herself and rolled her eyes. “My parents are happy I’m not there to bother them.”

Luka grabbed hold of one of her braids and twirled it in his fingers.

“I think I love you.”

Her jaw dropped. In a totally _unladylike_ way as her mom would say if she even cared enough to criticize her daughter. Marinette did a double take. “Wait, _what_?”

“I think I love you, Marinette,” he repeated. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight. Those absolutely brilliant blue eyes. Her heart skipped a beat and what she felt in that moment—that pure, raw, unadulterated pull toward him and only him… it _must_ have been love.

“Oh—wow. I… um—” She blushed, slowly growing more confident. Love. Yes. This was love. “I think I love you, too.”

She had certainly received a billion points. No doubt about it.

And they stayed outside for the rest of the night.They watched the stars, they made s’mores.

They fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

And Marinette knew this was love. This was exactly what love felt like.

To be someone’s world and someone’s rock and someone’s other half.

She loved love. 


End file.
